“How did you come up with this much money so soon? Someone helping you out? How many helpers do you have, Julio?” The questions come like a staccato of shots from a gun.

Again, Julio hesitates for a second too long. “Forgive me, I’m not sure what you mean. I work very much. I also received a bonus from my construction job. Is that what you mean by helper?”

Wow, Julio is a better liar than I am. I scrutinize the mask, wishing I could discern El Libertador’s expression underneath.

“Your answers are very quick, Julio.”

“So are your questions. And you have a lot of them. Why?”

Arden clicks his tongue. “Oooh,” he whispers, as if we’re in the room with them. “Dad doesn’t like to be questioned. Not smart.”

The sheriff proves this fact by standing abruptly. “The questions are mine to ask, not yours.” He reaches behind him and produces a small handgun. I cover my mouth with both hands. Arden places his hand on my leg.

The only thing I’m thankful for is that this view of Dwayne Moss shows the prominent scar on his hand—something we’ll need to prove his identity. It also shows a great view of the barrel of the handgun, and I have to wonder if all this risk is really worth the payoff. “Now, scoot the bag over here with your foot.”

I hope this cures Julio of his smart-mouthing. If I were there, I would be pinching him. Hard. We knew the sheriff would be armed. Arden says he always is. We just didn’t think he’d actually draw his weapon—Arden says he never does. Threatens to, yes. Pulls it, no.

What else could Arden be wrong about?

Julio does as he’s told. “I apologize,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” I think he really means it. I think everyone means it when they’ve got a gun pointed at them.

“Shut up.”

It occurs to me then that there’s nothing stopping the sheriff from killing my brother at this point. He has the cash. The only witness that Julio was ever there is the cab driver—someone who’s undoubtedly in the sheriff’s back pocket. To El Libertador’s knowledge, it would be a long time before anyone ever found Julio’s body.

I don’t want to watch my brother die.

The sheriff reaches out, taking several big steps toward us. “Give me your necklace.”

Everything goes dark.

Thirty-Two

Carly won’t come out of the bathroom. Arden can hear her quiet sobs from the other side of the door. “Carly, I’m so sorry, but we have to go. Dad could be home anytime now.”

“Let him come!” Carly shouts. “I’ll kill him!”

“You don’t know that he did anything.” Of course, nobody knows whether he did either. At this point, Arden doesn’t know what to expect from his father. He never suspected he’d be the one smuggling immigrants over the border in the first place. What else don’t I know? Is he dirty too, like Pardue? Does Mom know about any of it?

But the important thing is, they didn’t hear the gun go off. All they heard was scuffling. It could mean anything. Julio still could have gotten away.

The black screen on his laptop isn’t telling.

“He pulled a gun on my brother! He deported my family, Arden! My. Family. Your dad is psycho. Psicópata!”

Arden presses his forehead against the door. “Carly, please. We need to head for Cletus’s house. That’s our rally point, remember? And if Julio doesn’t show, Cletus will know what to do.”

What he doesn’t want to tell her is that they don’t even have enough evidence on his father. He never took his mask off. Arden has talked enough with Deputy Glass to know what is and is not conclusive evidence. And what they have isn’t it. Especially considering who they’re accusing.

His father could sweep all this under his network of rugs.

Just then, he hears a noise from behind him. He doesn’t want to turn around. He knows who makes that sound to clear his throat. This can’t be happening.

Sheriff Dwayne Moss.

Thirty-Three

The sound of the sheriff’s voice pulls me from my self-loathing trance. The actual words send my thoughts chasing after one another on a muddled crash course. I clutch my head in my hands, just in case I’m losing it.

“I’ll have a number one, super size, no drink,” the sheriff says.

What?

“Carly! Come here,” Arden hisses. I nearly break my nose flinging open the bathroom door and stumble into his bedroom. In the dark, Arden’s face shows pale in the laptop light. He gives me a grim look.

“What’s happening?” I throw myself on the bed and peer into the screen. The camera is facing the driver’s seat of a car—the sheriff’s driver’s seat. He must have kept the necklace.

Of course he did. He kept all traces that Julio was ever there. And … is he ordering dinner after just murdering my brother?

“Carly,” Arden says. “That’s our evidence. It ties him to the whole thing. Look. There’s the mask next to him in the seat. We’ve got him.”

I nod, breathless. “But where is Julio?” Because this whole scheme doesn’t mean anything if Julio doesn’t come with it. It wasn’t worth the risk. Wasn’t worth the danger. Stupid, stupid.

Arden’s lips press into a thin line. “I don’t know. But look where he’s at. That restaurant is five minutes tops from here. We have to go. Now.”

*   *   *